It Is Not the Fault of Your Receiver…

Television watching takes a lot out of a man, and even more so one so woefully unmanly as Tuned In. Which means it’s time for vacation. Between now and Labor Day, Tuned In will be ensconced at a remote tropical spa, dedicated to the purpose of rejuvenating TV critics. My eyes will be massaged and wrapped in a soothing poultice of mud, guava and mashed tree roots. My remote-control thumb will undergo a program of endurance and reflex training under the supervision of a former Estonian thumb-wrestling gold medalist. Millions of fresh, healthy brain cells–carefully harvested from among the most intelligent of the local rainforest monkey population–will be surgically grafted onto my own brain, so that I may kill them with impunity watching a new season of television in September.

Either that, or I’ll be passed out on my couch, one hand immersed in crusted-over guacamole and the other clutching a two-week old US Weekly. Or I’ll be somewhere else. Why do you need to know? What are you, a stalker?

Long story short, there will be little or no posting in the meantime at Tuned In, as suits a time of year when there is little or no television on TV. You may want to catch the season debut of Prison Break Aug. 21. Not so much the Emmys–sorry, Conan–which have done us the helpful favor this year of not nominating most of the best shows on TV. I plan to TiVo it, fast-forward to see if The Office wins Best Comedy, and get the whole business over in five minutes.

I’ll see you in September, as Katie Couric begins keeping America’s elderly company on The CBS Evening News; Aaron Sorkin tries to convince us that sketch comedy is as important as immigration policy on Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip; and the new fall season answers the musical question, "How many new-show pilots can begin with a close-up of an alarm clock waking someone up?" In the meantime, it’s a good time to shut off the tube, open your door, and soak in the last pleasures of a fading summer.